The Inner Hand
by SweetHeaven
Summary: First Class. Erik's skin was so appealing under the moonlight. If only Charles could touch it... Rated T, I hope it's alright. Slash!Don't like, don't read. reviews would be much appreciated


**Disclaimer:** I don't own X-Men or any of its characters.

**A/N: **My first Cherik fic! I'm not really sure Charles can use his powers this way, so please just use your imagination and let's pretend he can! English is not my first language, I'm so sorry for all the grammar and spelling mistakes I may have made.

Charles wondered how people in that part of the country could sleep when the nights were so hot. He had no problem with high temperatures, although the intense heat had been a bit annoying while travelling by car. They had come looking for a mutant, a young man who worked in a hotel very popular among celebrities. He had been shocked when he had met them, and after listening to their offer, he had declined to join them. He was happy to learn he was not the only person in the world with "special abilities", but he was satisfied with his life, and didn't intend to change it. They had given them their card, anyway, in case he changed his mind. Erik had got quite angry after their little failure and had insisted on continuing their recruiting trip as soon as possible. Charles, however, decided that they could go to one of the popular beaches in the city and take the day off. It would be such a shame to leave without relaxing a bit. Erik had accepted reluctantly, but it was pretty obvious that he, too, was a bit tired of travelling, trying to recruit mutants and, most of the times, failing. So they found a hotel and prepared for their one-day holidays.

High temperatures were fine for the beach. Charles had enjoyed their day there, and he had even swum on the sea. He had teased Erik because the German didn't want to take off his T-shirt, claiming that he didn't like the sun (Charles was sure that, hadn't it been so hot, Erik would have worn one of his turtle-neck pullovers). Only when two pretty women sat next to them Erik had seem about to remove his clothes, but decided against it when he heard Charles's mocking laugh.

Before going back to the hotel, they went for a drink. People there were wearing very light clothes. The skirts were so short that Charles was not even sure if they were skirts or just wide belts. People danced very close to each other, sweaty bodies touching every now and then, and Charles heard so many dirty thoughts that he blushed four or five times.

Now that he thought of it, three hour later, lying in his bed, those thoughts' influence, along with the heat, could be the reason why he was feeling so…well… hot.

He looked sideways, to the other bed in the room. Erik was lying there, a bit drunk (Charles suspected) and wearing only his pants. First, he had put on his pyjamas, but the room was so hot that he had removed them and throw them somewhere between a chair and the wall. And now there he was, his back on Charles, the blanket covering only the bottom half of his body. The moonlight was coming through the window and falling down on him, giving the whole scene the appearance of some kind of dream. He moved slightly and the blanket moved downwards some inches, revealing the top of his buttocks. The vision of that bare skin made Charles's heart beat faster.

He couldn't stop looking at Erik's half naked body, the shape of his long legs discernible under the thin blanket. Charles realised then that he wanted to touch him. It had never occurred to him before that he could have that kind of interest, but the truth was that he wanted to feel Erik's skin. He wondered if the older man was sleeping and whispered "Erik?" As Erik didn't reply, Charles assumed he was asleep. He was about to get up when the bed made quite a loud noise. Erik made a move, as if he was going to lift his head. Charles didn't move. He tried to lie down again as silently as possible; the bed creaked slightly but the room remained pretty quiet, and Erik didn't wake up.

Charles felt disappointed. He had wanted to touch him so bad. It's not that he wanted to spend two hours rubbing his back, his muscled arm… no, he just wanted to touch him for a second. That pale skin so appealing under the moonlight. Charles closed his eyes, unable to watch him anymore. But in his mind he pictured the half naked body; he couldn't ignore his own desire. He opened his eyes and looked at Erik again. He carefully focused all his energy towards the German. Charles's outstretched arm was too far from Erik's bed to touch him, but somehow he felt as if he was channelling his power through his fingers. He started from Erik's hair, which would be, Charles supposed, still a bit wet after the shower he had taken when they had come back. At first, Charles didn't feel anything. Maybe it was a stupid idea, after all, but still he needed to try. He focused again, breathing slowly. He stared at Erik's head, resting gently on his pillow. Charles guessed that his hair should smell like shampoo, and he could almost imagine the scent filling his nostrils. He was so lost in concentration that he barely noticed the moment in which he stopped imagining and he started to actually _feel_. He had the impression that his thoughts, his desire, his will, had become a hand with its own life, and he could move that hand, and feel through it. Erik's hair was silky and it was still wet, but not sticky with sweat. Charles's inner hand stroked his nape affectionately. The other man didn't move. Charles moved his inner hand downwards, brushing against Erik's neck. Touching his skin was not exactly the same as touching his hair. Charles was excited. He had started all this because he wanted to touch Erik's skin just for a second, and now he was doing it, he was feeling unable to stop. A little voice in the back of his head told him that maybe what he was doing was wrong, that a wide awake Erik would never allow Charles's hand to touch him like that, but Charles decided to ignore the voice. Erik was not awake, and he wasn't really touching him, was he? So it was not that bad. He continued lowering his inner hand across Erik's body. He touched his shoulder and for less than a second, he wished he could kiss it. He ran his fingers down Erik's arm, and the touch of his soft, short hair made him shiver. The man's arm was long and strong, and Charles could feel every muscle under the pale skin. He remembered the anatomy lessons he had had at college, and found himself thinking of the names of the arm's muscles as he touched each of them, so discernible they were. When he reached Erik's hand, he felt the impulse of intertwining the fingers of his inner hand with the German's fingers, but he didn't, and he wished he had the courage to do it. He decided to move to Erik's back instead. His index finger went down the man's spine, very slowly. Charles felt that the time was not measured by seconds anymore, but by heartbeats. He had been very nervous at the beginning, with his hart pounding frantically against his chest, but now he was feeling calm, as if he had found some kind of peace through the contact with his friend's body. His finger moved down –one heartbeat- and down -two heartbeats- and down -three heartbeats- and that way, too soon for Charles, he reached the bottom end of Erik's back. He gently caressed what would be considered the beginning of his buttocks. The skin was warm and soft, and Charles left his inner hand resting there for an undefined number of heartbeats. He just rubbed the waist lovingly, carefully, afraid of the fact that Erik could wake up any moment and the spell would be broken. He thought he would have liked to caress Erik's face, too. His eyelids, his nose, those kissable lips that, Charles was sure, had to taste like the sweetest thing ever. But if Erik had been facing him, he would have never dared to behave like this. He would have been too scared of Erik opening his eyes and catching him. He continued caressing Erik's waist, rubbing his back up and down. But then Erik moved, and Charles lost his focus. The German didn't wake up, but Charles was feeling too insecure about touching him anymore. He brought his fingers, the real ones, to his own lips, as if he wanted to kiss the lucky fingertips of that inner hand that had allowed him to touch Erik in a way he would never do again. Exhausted by the effort he had made to keep so focused all that time, he fell asleep almost instantly.

The following day, while they were in the car and Erik was driving, Charles looked at the other man's arm, the ghost of a smile dancing in his lips when he remembered how its skin had sent shivers down his spine the previous night. But before Erik could notice that he was staring at him, he looked away sadly as he felt that, even though the touch of his skin had not been physical, it had been so real that he was already missing it.

OK, I hope you liked it, and once again, sorry about all the mistakes. It would be great if you could leave a review. Thanks!


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